A Christmas visit
by Peladon
Summary: Sometime after AWE Jack takes a long overdue trip back to his one time home and makes a visit to some of his relations
1. Chapter 1

**A Christmas visit **

He wasn't sure why he came back, after all he had sworn countless times, and in numerous places, that he wouldn't. The brand on his arm was a constant reminder that there was no returning and that it would be both painful and foolish to try; and, as he wasn't neither a fool nor a lover of pain, that had seemed to settle the matter.

But somehow his dying had changed things, and perhaps in more way than he yet understood, and the need to come back had appeared from the fading smoke of the battle and then refused to go away.

So he had come back though he still didn't know why.

It was Christmas and they would be here, his good fortune that it was also a place where no wandering military man was likely to recognise him. Not that he was inspired with any desire to see most of them, but Horry and the old lady were different; they were the ones who had drawn him here and he knew that he couldn't leave without catching a glimpse of them. He needed to be sure that all was still as it once was before he put them behind him again and this time forever.

Though he had been sure that he had done that once before.

***

The house was unchanged, the tall twisted chimneys reaching up to a cold and crying sky, their plumes of smoke fading into the mist of the rain that threatened to turn to ice. The leaded windows were dull and blind in the fading light and he could only imagine the brightness within, a world where fires were always burning and candles were lit as soon as day began to withdraw.

He waited beside the main drive, tense and still unsure of how to proceed. From here the house could be as dead as his past, a shell surrounded by a lifeless garden where the winter winds soon swallowed any bloom hardy enough to unfurl a petal. Even the crash of the seas against the cliffs were somehow drained and lifeless as of Calypso herself were in mourning, as perhaps she was.

With a sigh for something he couldn't have explained he squared his shoulders and drew a deep and steadying breath, then he strode out from the cover of the spinney and began the trek to the side garden gate.

***

Darkness was closing in as reached his objective. This close to the house he could see the signs of occupancy, and the markers of the season. From the stables the stamping of hooves and the whistling of grooms told their story of carriages and visitors. Tracks in the shingle spoke of recent arrivals, and the wreath of green on the doors signaled their welcome. Behind the heavy window panes he could just make out the flicker of fire and candle, and once, when the door opened for a moment, he caught the sound of laughter and a violin being played. But no one came out of the door and he remained concealed in the shrubbery and lost in memory of other times until the dying light and the closing of the heavy drapes separated him from the world inside.

As the evening shadow deepened he turned away and made his way to the kitchen garden wall; the gate was locked, just as he had expected, but it had presented no barrier in the past and it both pleased and amused him that it presented no more an obstacle now. It was the work of seconds to be over it and gliding though the shadows of that same wall towards the back door and his objective.

The kitchen garden was deserted now, the day time laborers gone to their rooms and cottages to eat and sleep, to draw breath in readiness for the mornings festivities. No servant would venture here now that dinner was prepared and there was none to challenge him; he moved a little easier and faster as he fixed his eyes on the tradesman's door, closed now against the thickening cold of the night.

In the shadow of the lintel he paused, for if he was to lift the knocker then there would be no turning away and he would have to see it through. Was he truly ready to face the past in this way a small part of him demanded? But the rest bade it hush, he had come a long way to do this and it would be done. Done for them and for himself, both for who he was and who he had been. There were those he needed to do right by and this Christmas Eve he would do it.

His hand reached for the knocker almost without his knowledge and the first thud sealed his fate.

There was a moment of panic as he realised that he had bare seconds now to change his mind. Then the latch was being drawn and the hinges creaked, as he suddenly remembered that they always had, and even that sliver of a chance was gone. The past was truly woken now and, for good or ill, he would have to see it through

***

The face that stared at him was young, too young to be known to him, and topped by a grubby cap, matched by the stained apron that bound the girl's skirts. 'A scullery maid then', he thought, and cursed, though he should have expected as much, 'the lowest of the low, in this place at least, and as like to scare as a hind surprised in a glade.' But easy enough to pass with the right words.

He pulled his hat from his head and swept it to his chest with the ghost of a bow. The child's eyes widened as they travelled over him, taking in the long topped boots and unfashionable coat, becoming saucer like as they slid over the long braids of his hair; his sash he had left behind on the pearl and his pistol was well hidden, but even though he had tied his hair back the uncurled length of it would be remarked by her. He saw the scorn start to form on her face and the wariness appear in her eyes and he could imagine the words forming on her tongue before she even thought them. 'No place here for such as you, be gone or I'll rouse them men to give you a beating.' But she'd not say those words for he spoke first,  
"Is Mrs Jane here girl?"

Sure enough the scorn faded to be replaced by hesitant curiosity and the words that she did speak were polite enough though uncertain in tone,  
"Yes, she is, what is that to you?"  
Relief flooded through him, that she was still here would make things so much easier. He smiled at the child still half hidden behind the door, but only a half smile that didn't show his teeth nor warm his eyes, and a soft one at that, no call to frighten the little miss, not if he wanted to get indoors without a fuss.  
"Just tell she has a Christmas visitor, someone from the past who is minded to make her acquainatce once again. For a short while."  
"And would she be minded to see such as you. Mrs Jane is cook here and has no need of vagabonds." Her words were sharp now and her looks dismissive.  
"That is for her to decide is it not?" he replied gently but with a hint of wrapped steel slipping into his voice.  
He smiled again, more warmly this time as he saw the effects of his words and the sound and timbre of his voice go to work on her. In the dim light he though she dropped a half bob of a curtsey and wondered again at the power of the little things to sway such as her. Her eyes widened again as she stared back at him,  
"Very well, who shall I say is callin'?"  
Her tone was softer now and the challenge was gone from her look. Even so he caught her uncertain backwards glance and knew that she might yet bar his entrance.

He softened his smile and his voice was gentle,  
"I'll wait her shall I? Until you have been given permission for me to enter."  
He saw the relief as she bobbed again,  
"If you please." The ghost of a 'sir' hung unspoken, but thought, in the cold air before she compressed her lips over such an unlikely deference and skipped back in doors to the safety of those who would know what to do.

The moments that followed seem like hours as memories attacked from all sides, this door he had known so well, the three legged stool, dark and wet in the winters evening, still tucked under the eaves for use when cleaning game and peeling vegetables in warmer airs, the smell of new hay drifting on the wind from the stables where the grooms were settling down for an evening of ale and cards, the scent of cooking drifting out from the still open door. Things he had once known so well but which he had lost and had never thought to see again. Once more he wondered why he had come back.

Then the door was pushed wider and a woman appeared with a lantern in her hand and two broad young men at her shoulders. She stood back from the edge of the door and raised the lamp high, the white cap tinged yellow by its light, the silver hair beneath that gilded too. Yet though it illuminated her, a familiar face despite the intervening years, it left him in shadow and what she could see of him her pinched expression told him she didn't like.  
"The girl says you be askin' for me? What for? You may know my name but I know none such as you, nor want to. Be gone, or if it is a message that you bring then deliver it quickly for it canno' be good news if it's brought by the likes of you and at such a time."  
Her voice was cold though polite enough.

He sighed and bowed low,  
"Forgive me Mrs Jane. There is no message and I would not worry you for the world. Be easy, I am all the bad news that there is. But I need you assistance," he looked at her from under half swept lashes and smiled his most charming smile, "and you will say that it is not the first time and you will be right. Mrs Jane I need to speak to Honny. But I would see no one else if it can be arranged. I need you to fetch her for me, as you have done in the past," his smile widened, "as only we three know."  
The woman came to the door stoop then, her brows narrowed in confusion, for he knew that she was feeling the familiarity of his voice though the shape of the man was unknown. The lamp was raised higher and shone towards his face. He straightened as her free hand came forward to grasp his arm stepping back slightly and pulling him towards the passageway behind her.  
"Daniel, fetch more light." She said without turning.  
There was murmured protest which she waved away,  
"Do as I say boy, William here is protection enough for a moment and I do not think this man means me any harm."

The one called William moved closer to her shoulder as the one called Daniel scuttled to do her bidding,  
Jack suppressed a smile, no boot boy or footman would risk the wrath of the cook and, while Mrs Jane had always been fair and kind, she ruled her domain with the threat of no second helpings, a dire threat to a growing lad. Sure enough the boy was back in short order with a branched candleabra in his hand and with the butler at his back.

The light was brought forward and shone into his face and he looked steadily from cook to butler and back again as they all stared at him. Then he heard a muttered oath and the butler took a step backwards and Mrs Jane's hand was on his arm again and she was stepping closer to stare at him. Her head bare met his shoulder but there was no fear in her eyes. Then her hand was withdrawn, going to her mouth as her eyes widened,  
"Oh my lord, it can't be," she breathed, "by all the saints of heaven." She stepped backwards the menfolk hurried retreating before her, "by all the saints."  
She took a deep breath and came forward again, tilting her head and looking at him first one way then another; finally her free hand came up to touch his face and he caught it, pressing the cold fingertips to his lips,  
"I'm keeping you in the cold Mrs Jane," he smiled at her, "forgive me."  
In the light of the candles he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes and closed his fingers more tightly around hers.

"By all the saints of heaven." She whispered again as the tears stared to spill down her cheeks, "you've come back, after all this time, you've come back."  
"Just for tonight Mrs Jane, things to settle, then I'll be gone again I promise you."  
She shook her head at that, though what it was she was denying she didn't say.  
"By all the saints," she whispered again. Then she seemed to recall herself .  
" Come you in, there's food and drink and a fire as there always was." She reached up and touched his face again, "you are cold, come and get warm."

A hand fell heavy on his shoulder and he half turned, hand reaching for his sword, he met the eyes of the butler staring at him as if Christmas Eve had suddenly turned to Easter Day,  
"My pantry, lad. It's quiet there, no need for Miss Honney to face the stares of those who know no better."  
A name suddenly clicked in Jack's mind.  
"Mr Fletcher is it not? I thank you, 'twould be best perhaps."  
The man nodded his recognition, the hand on Jack's shoulder pulled him forward,  
"My pantry it is then Mrs Baker. I'll find some port if you can provide some victuals. Best keep this between ourselves, given what's gone before."  
The cook nodded and wiped her eyes then turned for her kitchen, she cast one last look behind her and Jack her heard her say,  
"By all the saints of heaven, I never thought I'd see this day." then she faded into the shadow.

continue


	2. Chapter 2

**Christmas visit - 2**

Port had never been his drink of choice but it seemed somehow fitting in this dark and fire lit room. Mr Fletcher had provided glass and bottle then left him in a deep cushioned chair beside the fire. Mrs Jane had brought him pies and bread and a side dish of the best cheese and pickle he'd tasted since last he was here, then she had left him too, still wide eyed and blessing herself.

But before she had gone she had kissed his forehead and run wondering fingers over his hair, touching the trinkets, still just visible despite the constraining ribbon, with an uncertain look; then she bit her lip and shook her head, in sadness or confusion, he couldn't be sure of which.  
"You were ever a wild one my lamb," she said softly, "but what has life done that you should stay away so long and come back this way?"  
Jack swallowed on some emotion he could not, and would not, name. He smiled softly and caught her fingers, kissing them them briefly,  
"Just what life was minded to do Mrs Jane, as it does with all men born of woman. No more and no less."  
Seeing the tears glowing again in her eyes he raised a warning finger,  
"No grief for me now, for it could have been worse and there are those who would tell you it should have been. I'm my father's son after all."  
She shook her head,  
"No one will tell me that, never."  
Then she had left, and he'd just stared into the deep red depths of his glass and tried not to remember.

She's been newly employed when he first came here, a handsome woman and probably a mite fewer in years than she had claimed, for cooks were not supposed to be young. Whether the Mrs was an honest title he neither knew nor cared, she had always been Mrs Jane to him, just as she had been to Horry. All he knew was that she had been a stalwart of his youth from the first day he arrived here dispatched from his father sight at his mother's insistence.

Not that Teague had protested much, that his only legitimate son was a disappointment to his father had been clear enough to all concerned.

He leaned back in the chair and smiled to himself, watching the past in the play of light in the crystal and wine. Mrs Jane had stood between him and the world, and its probably just retribution, more times than he could count. Scrumped apples and torn clothes, chimneys climbed and ponds swum, lost hair ribbons and pilfered sweetmeats, snatched nights at sea and swear words learnt from the sailors and fishermen, forbidden books and undone lessons; the sins of growing up. She had shielded him from the consequences of them, hiding him and comforting him in the kitchen for times without number, ay, and lied for him more than once or twice. Seemed that she was no more reluctant to do that now, even knowing so little of him and his fate. Maybe there had been more to the boy he had been than the man he was now recalled.

Mrs Jane and the old lady, sometimes conspiring together to save him from his sins. Despite the warnings of others they had sheltered him and nurtured him and in return he had loved them both fiercely and without reservation, and not only for their protection. The boy he had been would have died for them without a whimper or protest and would have been proud to do it. Most of all for Horry. He would have died in whatever torment was required to save or please Horry.

Jack frowned as he watched the ruby light dance in the glass, where had that boy been in Jones's locker? For he was sure that he hadn't seen him. Was he dead? Was that one part of him that had been able to love so freely without asking any reward been the one he had lost, was it now gone forever? Did he care if it was? That boy had been a fool, just as the man he first became had been.

Both were gone now, but he would not let Mrs Jane know that, nor Horry or the old woman if she still lived. They deserved better than anything the man he was now could give them, so let them have the boy to live in their memory.

Jack grimaced at the maudlin direction of his thoughts and took a deep swallow of port. What was done was done and could not be undone, and he'd not have that idealistic youth back if it were offered; but he could be the man that boy might have been for a few hours, then he'd go again leaving another legend behind him and right done by those he owed. He stared up and the wall and nodded to himself, that he could manage.

The latch clattered and Jack put his glass down quickly, getting to his feet as the door opened, straightening his coat as he did so. A shadow appeared at the door, the outline of spreading skirts and piled hair telling him who this was even though she remained in shadow. He just stood and stared toward the face he couldn't see except in his mind's eye.

Then there was the click of a heel and the swish of silk and the shadow moved into the room, the flickering candles showing him a woman of close to his own age, hair still the colour of winter beech leaves and piled in a tousled drift upon her head, spreading skirts the colour of mulled wine, eyes darkened from their day time amber by the dim light. For a moment they just stared at each other in silence and then he stepped towards her smiling, his hands reaching for hers,  
"Horry," he said, and then fell silent, hands falling back to his side as she stared at him without expression.

She came closer though and scrutinised him carefully, the candle light picking out the amber in her eyes and the russet sparks in her hair as she did so, her gaze drifting from the scuffed sea boots to his leather hat before her eyes met his in a long and steady look. He looked back at her, holding his breath for fear that the sound of his breathing might frighten her. Not that anything had ever frightened Horry. Not the Horry he had known at least, but who could tell with this strange and solemn woman.

Suddenly she was smiling, lace falling away from her forearms as she reached out to take hold of his arms, skirts whispering as she closed the distance between them as quickly as she could, her voice as warm as her smile.  
"Jonathon!"

***

"She's dying."  
"Who is?"  
"Grandmamma."  
"Oh."

They were still sitting in the butler's pantry, a place they had dared each other to see when still children, the firelight glinting on the port and Horry's hair. She was seated in the deep chair and he was on the carpet at her feet, poking the fire and soaking up a long forgotten warmth, one that owed little to the dancing flames, nor disappearing port. Horry had a glass of that same drink in her hand, but her other one frequently rested on his shoulder or head as if to reassure herself he was still there. Above them servants bustled about serving dinner, a fine feast in the familey's Christmas Eve tradition. Horry had sent word that she was needed by her grandmother and not to expect her, none would check and they had the evening to themselves. Mr Fletcher and Mrs Jane would leave them alone, terrifying the others servants into silence about the strange visitor who sat with Miss Horry in the room along the passageway.

For a fleeting moment he wondered if somewhere inside he had known this and if it was what had called him back to the place that had once been home, before his blood and the sea had called him away.

"No she can't die, she's indestructible, always was," he heard himself say, "just like Teague."  
"Your father? Have you seen him then?"  
Jack looked into the heart of the flames and his mouth twisted into a wry smile,  
"Aye, I have, recently too, though I can't say that the meeting was expected." He took a deep swallow of port, "most unexpected in fact." Jack laughed without humour, "He's almost respectable Horry, " he waved his glass towards the fire, "revered even, if you can imagine that. Keeper of the Code, Teague of all people."

Her hand came down onto his shoulder,  
"He is not the devil Jon. Not a good man I'll grant you, and I'll never forgive him for what he did to grandmamma, nor you either, but he's not the devil."  
"Is he not?"  
"No, and if he has found some measure of peace then you should be glad for him."  
He looked up at her feeling his brows setting into a frown,  
"Should I?"  
She stared back as unafraid of his mood or opinion as ever she had been. 'Not ever Captain Jack Sparrow at his worst would frighten her' he thought.  
"Yes, you should. For if he can then so can you," her voice was gentle.  
Jack smiled as he felt the frown fade, and for a moment he bent his head and let it rest against her knee, just as he had done when they were so much younger, a lifetime away,  
"Mebbe. Though I think I'm a lost cause Horry, even death gave me no peace."

"Jones, not death Jon. Whatever is to come do not forget that."  
He laughed and gripped her hand, raising his head to stare at her with wide and challenging eyes,  
"Theologian are you now Horry? Well I'm not surprised you always were a wise girl. Most unbecoming in one so pretty 'tis true, but you were born with more sense than any priest or bishop."  
"Some would not say so," she said sedately though there was nothing sedate about the look she gave him and he felt the warmth of it lay fire his blood.  
"They would be fools, and we never were," he said softly, one finger tracing patterns on her hand, "or has time changed your mind about that?"  
"No, I have no regrets, well none that flow from you that is."  
Her hands closed over his,  
"But she is dying Jon. At most she has a few weeks now. I'm glad that you came back before she did."

He looked down again, his face sad and serious in the firelight,  
"Why? She can have no desire to see me. No reason why she should. She gave me a chance, gave me everything I asked for, my freedom and a ship, and I failed her as badly as Teague ever did. I hoped she thought me dead, for I intended that she would, better that than know me for what I am."  
"If you thinks she would rather have you dead than a pirate then you do her a great disservice. She understands Jon."  
"And what does she understand Horry? The brand on my arm means there is no redemption, not without the grace of the king and I'm not likely to get that, now am I? The charge sheet against me runs to several pages, and though I swear to you there are some sins I have not committed the ones that I have are too many to count. There isn't a navy man who wouldn't hang me from the yardarm without question or chance of confession, nor one who wouldn't leave my body to rot and feed the sea birds. Better that I am dead and she remembers what I might have been."  
He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice and failed.

She leant forward, setting her glass on the table with care then she dropped her chin on to the top of his head wrapping her arms around his shoulders,  
"She understands, " she said softly, "Oh, she didn't always do so, and there was as much anger as grief for you at the beginning."  
"So what changed that she understands so much now?"  
There was a moment of silence as is she was debating something with herself, when she answered her voice was so low he could only just catch the words,  
"In town, five years ago, she met a man called Beckett."


	3. Chapter 3

**Christmas Visit - 3**

The room was still as he remembered it, the heavy drapes, the imposing bed, the intricately carved chairs and tables; and, as always on Christmas eve, a roaring pine scented fire whose light set shadows dancing on the walls and amid the flowers and angels of the ceiling mouldings.

He had come here each Christmas eve for seven years, to hang greenery around the mantelpiece and picture frames and then to be given sweetmeats and punch, to sing carols around the spinet and to unwrap secret presents. The old lady had not been quite so old then, though she had always seemed so to him, and he could remember the colours of her dress glowing in the fire and candlelight and the ribbons on her cap fluttering as he pulled her around in some childish ritual dance. It was in this room she had taught him the steps of real dances, and to play the stately measures and folk tunes of her youth on the spinet, exclaiming at the rapid skill of his clever fingers, and then laughing behind her fan when he sang her the shanties the sailors had taught him. It was at this window he had first put a spyglass to his eye and looked across the gardens to the cliffs and the seas beyond and told her of his dreams. In this room he and Horry had sheltered from a world that seemed to want neither of them, though for different reasons. She had been vibrant and alive, and also kind and still beautiful, to him at least.

But now the old lady was truly old, very old now he came to count the years; the beauty had faded and the face on the white pillows was marked with pain and illness and grief. The mark of death was indeed upon her now, yet still it was an elegant face and her eyes were as wide and alert as ever they had been.

The hand that reached out to beckon him forward was much changed however, the flesh had withered and the long and elegant fingers were too thin to hold the glory of rings that had always adorned them before. Just her wedding band glinted on her hand now, though even that looked as if it might fall off if she moved too quickly. But her days of dancing and darting movement were over, Horry had told him that she had not left the bed in a twelve month and none of the rest of the family, downstairs and too busy eating and flirting to wonder who might be visiting, had expected her to live to see this night.

"Come here boy."  
The voice was stronger than he had expected and when Horry nodded her agreement he crossed the carpet to the side of the bed.  
"Not been a boy in many a year ma'am," he replied and kissed the naked fingers she extended to him.  
"I assure you that's all relative, to me you are most certainly a boy."  
The old asperity was still there and he smiled despite himself.  
"Ah, a matter pf perspective is it?" he replied.  
"Of course. All things are. But I am too old to bandy words with a strange boy, or man, in my bedroom. Come closer, Honoria says I know you, but I do not see how that can be, the man she claims you are is dead."

Jack shot Horry a hesitant look, but at receiving a most decided nod of assent he edged closer, leaning towards the candles burning beside the bed, as close as he could without risking setting light to his hair, allowing the light to fall full on his face. The old woman's eyes wandered over him, long moments ticking by as she studied him carefully, then suddenly they blinked closed, the fragile hand reached out for him, catching at his own hand as he extended it,  
"Jonathon," she sighed, "it is you after all. I'd know you anywhere. Thank God, for I never thought to see this day. Never. Not after..."  
"Beckett." Jack supplied for her quietly.  
She nodded, her eyes still closed, her breathing quickened,  
"That man, that..!"  
Jack didn't quite catch the word, but he was more familiar with her vocabulary than most and could supply it with ease, his smile widened and he raised her hand to his lips,  
"You always were a woman of great perspicacity," he said softly.

Her eyes opened again at that, fixing him with a look that still missed nothing.  
"Honoria has told you? That I met him? It was at Lord Fox 's house, I was placed next to him at dinner no less." Her mouth quirked with distaste, "Can't stand the men of that family at all and I'm not sure why I agreed to go, some momentary sympathy for Lady Amanda perhaps. Though why I shoukd I don't know, she had other chances and chose to marry that fool. Lord Fox thinks much of him it seems, Beckett I mean, which probably tells you all you need to know about Lord Fox. He had no manners of course, and he bored me half to death with the stories of his cleverness and leadership. Heaven only knows why, for the man was obviously looking for connections and I have no daughters left to marry, unless he thought Horry was still in the market. Maybe he thought that, at her age, I'd be glad of anyone for her."  
She spat another uncertain word, Jack's silent translation of the sound sending his eyebrows towards his hair and Horry's causing her to clap fingers to her lips to choke off the giggle. The old lady didn't seem to notice,  
"We were well into the dessert when he told me of you. I have wondered so many times since whether he knew what he was doing, did he bear me some malice for the sins he thought you had committed against him? I don't know for it seemed he didn't know who you were, though he might have guessed."

Jack shook his head and stroked the withered fingers,  
"No, he didn't know, though if he had I doubt it would have stopped him. That cruelty would have been quite within his scope. But I was Jack Sparrow already by then, a young cartographer and merchantman, he knew me as nothing else." he gave a short laugh and tightened his grip on the fragile hand resting in his, "Cutler Beckett had a driving need to be important, to impress, he saw a person of influence, a great lady and sought to win her admiration and her approval with his ruthlessness and guile. No more than that."  
"He expected such an act to win my approval?" she exclaimed.  
Jack smiled at her gently but without humour,  
"Why would he not? The empire expands on men such as he and acts such as those; the law permits it, the navy defends it and the church says nothing. Great ladies and gentlemen of influence get rich on such acts, why then should not expect your approval for it?"

They said nothing for a moment, only the clock ticking on the mantelpiece competing with the fire for ruination of the silence. Then there was a rustle of skirts as Horry drew closer dropping her hand onto Jack shoulder and leaning her cheek against his hair. The old lady sighed and her fingers tightened around his,  
"But not you Jonathon?"  
He looked down at her hand,  
"No, you taught me too well, you and my father. There are some things a man cannot do and for me that was it, and remains so."  
Her eyes closed again,  
"See that it does. Most else I can understand and, pray god, forgive, but not that."  
His hand was jerked closer and her eyes sprang open again,  
"Though not all else. Tell me the worst then, I will know it and you could never hide from me. Have you ever in the years before or since killed without need or thought?"

Jack thought about his intentions to spare them the truth and sighed, for the old lady was right he had never been able hide from her, and thanks to Cutler Beckett she already knew too much for comfort. Recent events burned bright in his mind, but the locker had taught him its lessons better than he had thought and he did not flinch from what he had seen of himself. Even so he sighed as he shrugged, then he sat carefully on the edge of the bed drawing her hand further between his own. Horry's hands came to rest upon his shoulders again, their warmth a reminder of other days. He looked down into the old woman's face meeting her eyes squarely,  
"Not knowing that what I did meant their death, though perhaps I have not always been as careful of that as I might have been. In my defence, my lady, I would say that at such times I have always been in great peril myself. I've never been careless with others lives at better times."  
She seemed the think about that for a moment then she nodded and squeezed his hand briefly, the strength quickly fading from her fingers. She was watching him no less closely than when he had made some childhood confession.  
"And before you ask," he raised a emphatic finger, "I have never taken a lass against her will, regardless of her station or employment, nor have I seduced innocence, nor begot children to leave fatherless." The finger dropped and his shoulder sagged, not wanting Horry to hear but knowing that there was no hiding now, "at least not that I know or intended, but I'll not deny there have been women, and more than I could name, and strong drink too. The two often being known at the same time, if you take my meaning?"  
"I do." The old woman smiled faintly, "you are your father's son in some ways then."  
He tried to protest but she ignored him,  
"Just as long as you paid a fair price for what was provided by those who needed it."  
Jack tried his best hurt look and ignored the two female snorts that resulted in,  
"I did," he said, "and though I've earned a slap or two along the way it was never for non payment, nor bruised flesh or broken bones."

The woman in the bed was still watching him with hawklike attention but she had become paler in the last few minutes, and the strength in the finger gripping his had faded, the withered skin becoming cold. He looked up at Horry, still standing behind him, a question in his eyes, and she nodded coming from behind him to take the old woman's hand from his and tuck it beneath the quilt,  
"Grandmamma, you are tired," she said softly. "Enough talk for the moment. I will bring Jonathon back later when you have had time to rest. The others need not know he is here, Mrs Jane and Mr Fletcher will find any excuses necessary for my absence."  
Jack shook his head,  
"My ship returns to the bay at first light and I must go on tomorrow's tide. There is a lot you do not know and I'd not put you to the risk of sheltering me."  
Horry smiled at him as she straightened the bed covering,  
"It is no risk. They will eat and drink their fill tonight and not rise early, I will bring you here before you must leave."

From the bed came a faint and sleepy chuckle,  
"What risk is there to one of my years? I'm dying, and it will be soon I know it. What can they do to me now? If anyone should ask then I would say that as a dutiful granddaughter Horry did as she was told, and, family or not, none of them know her well enough to appreciate the absurdity of that. And even if they did they would think it nothing more than a ploy to win favour in my will."  
The dark eyes flickered open again, the life there belying the grey pallor and shrunken frame,  
"Anyways, who will know? No need for them to do so. No Jonathon, there is always a bed for you in this house," she shot a look from one to the other, "unless Honoria is more a fool than I have always taken her for."

The laugh that followed their look of shock was almost a joyful,  
"Did you really think that I didn't know?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Christmas Visit**

Jack could not recall a night since his leaving of here when his skin had been more alive to another's touch, nor one where his senses had come together in such a way. Nor had there been a moment that he could recall when his need for the one beside him had been greater, but where the waiting had been less irksome, or more pleasurable.

Horry was everything he had remembered and then more; a skin of velvet and a mouth of silk twined around him, hair cascading down to tangle with his own and trap his fingers in its abundant shine. Each touch opened doors he had thought barred, and brought with it a feeling of warmth that went beyond the aching fire that raged in his belly or the hard furnace of his impatient horn. The shivers called up by soft fingers on chest and belly was both familiar and new, and very sweet, and there were times when he held his breath and thought that he would never breath again if in not doing so he could keep hold of the moment. Things he had done countless times before were re-discovered, and he could only smile into her eyes when he saw the same rediscovery in her face; for him it was more wondrous still, the years falling away and with it the staleness of custom. That she wanted him for himself alone was no doubt some part of it, the knowledge that she did what she no more than what she wanted, for choice and not need, that her obvious joy in him had nothing to do with the thought of a meal or a roof for the night, nor with having a pirate lord as a trophy in her bed. Until that moment he had not realised, or admitted, how cynical his port side coupling had become.

By the small hours of Christmas day they were drowsing comfortably, passion spent for the moment, laughing at memories of the past, some shared, some not.

"Who would have thought that a peach would lead us into such iniquity?" Horry said rolling onto her side and staring to play with one of the long braids now trailing across his chest.  
"Iniquity do you say?" he caught her hand and kissed each finger by turn, "did you pray for forgiveness then? " He grinned at her, dropping his voice to a purr, "For if you did then the prayers were not very efficacious as I recall matters."  
She sighed with mock regret,  
"I was such an innocent I did not know that I had done anything I needed forgiveness for."  
Jack raised his head and kissed her breast with great care and thoroughness,  
"Nor I love, nor I." he said eventually. "How could such pleasure be wrong?"  
Then he narrowed his eyes and pointed a finger at her  
"But 'twas all your fault my girl, for if you had granted me but a single bite of that stolen peach when I asked for it then we might both still be innocents."  
She gave a most unladylike snort at that,  
"Asked for it? Demanded as I recall and imperiously." She leaned forward and nipped his waving finger, "and who was it that had risked the gardeners wrath to flitch it? Tell me that? Old Ben chased me all the way to the orchard."  
"So I recall. But we said we would share love, don't you remember? A single bite was all I asked for, but no you would deny it to me, fight me for it you did and look where that brought us."  
Horry rolled over him, pinning him to the bed and laughing,  
"And I say that were it to happen again I would still fight you for it Jonathon and be glad of the consequences."  
He raised his brows and nodded at her,  
"And I'd say good for you, I like a lass that can fight her corner." His hand slid over her hair, "but I promise you that I never thought that tussle in the grass would end up where it did."  
"Nor I, but we had fought before, why should we have thought that time would be so different? We had stopped being children Jon but we didn't know it until then."

Jack sighed, twining his fingers with hers, his eyes taking on a far away look,  
"If my father had been a different man then events might have taken their usual course. As it was that could never be, you know it. He was an outcast before he was a pirate and me with him, society will tolerate much for those with the right name, but not that; Teague killed three men before his majority and broke his mothers heart."  
"He is what he is Jon, as are you."  
"A sad commentary on us both love, more sad then I hope you ever know."  
She looked at him for a long moment, seeing something in his distant eyes that hurt her. With a sudden jerk she flung the covers back and swung herself to her feet.  
"Come with me."  
"What! It's Christmas day Horry and the house is full; we will be seen and I'll not bring disgrace on you now, having not managed to do so, despite my effort, in the past."  
"It's not yet morning Jon, have you forgotten so much, they will be only just asleep, none of them will stir for many hours yet. Not even the lowliest of the servants will be stirring yet."  
She was shrugging herself into a silk robe as she spoke and stooping she picked up his shirt and breeches and tossed them to him; she grinned that shedevil smile again,  
"Much thought the idea of you trekking naked through the house amuses me it will be cold so you must dress. Hurry, for I would not waste much of tonight somewhere other than my bed."  
"Then why are we leaving it? " he protested as she pulled the shirt over his reluctant head.  
"I think it is time I reminded you of something," she said, batting away his hands and turning to slide his breeches over his ankles. "Come now, I'd do it in daylight and spare us the loss of time here, but we cannot take the risk. Hurry, it won't take long."

Still protesting he dragged on his clothes, muttering about wilful women, but he he did as he was bid before sliding his coat around her shoulders in protection against the chill he knew was waiting for them. With a shake of his head he followed her across the room and they slipped, hand in hand, through the door.

***

The house was dark and silent. They had not even risked a candle and the shadows were deep and worrying to one who so often needed to stay unseen and unsurprised. They descended the stairs to the first landing then crossed the top of the main staircase; the hallway was dark and secret below them, only the faint red glow from the banked drawing room fire where a door was only half closed lightening the darkness. Round the landing and past the games room they crept, Jack's boyhood memories melding with more recent ones in a fission of unease. On, past the old lady's sitting room, cold and unlit these days, and round a dark corner to a doorway where Horry stopped to strike a light and pick up a candle.

Jack shivered in a sudden and more powerful draught and frowned at her,  
"The gallery? By all that's holy why bring me here Horry?"  
She took his hand and pulled him forward, her robe glowing white and ghostly in the gloom.  
"You need a lesson in the past Jon, you have forgotten."  
"Forgotten what?" he demanded.  
Horry led him over cold and creaking boards to the far end of the gallery and raised her candle high, its light glowing faintly on the frames that lined the walls.  
"Look Jon, what do you see?"  
"Paint and canvas love, and nothing of much interest, certainly nothing worth leaving your room for."  
"But what do you see in them?" she insisted  
He sighed, she meant him to see something so gave the nearest two a cursory look.  
"Not much, an unprepossessing lot if the truth be told, " he said after a moment.  
"But respectable, yes? Worthy. Law abiding, and noble would you say? Isn't that what these painting show to you? Honest and substantial men and their happy and pretty wives."  
Jack squinted at the nearest painting again it was of man in light armour with his dog curled at his feet,  
"I suppose."

She smiled at him in the flickering light,  
"But we know different don't we? Look at them again. Behind each painting is a story it doesn't tell. That it takes care not to tell."  
She swept her arm in an arc that encompassed the row of paintings nearest to them,  
"They were brigands to a man Jon, thieves and mercenaries many of them, and pimps and whores when it suited. But the winners always write history, and they were that. Clever and resourceful people, willing to do what it took and with the knack of being on the winning side."  
Jack squinted at the nearest painting again and shrugged,  
"Maybe. Was never much for the family history you might recall, I was here on sufferance."  
Horry took his arm,  
"Your father's forbears Jon, and yours too. That was what your father lost, the knack of being on the winning side. For the rest, was he so different from them?"  
She looked back at the paintings,  
"You at least have your mother's blood, and grandmamma has always said there was a much of her as Teague in you, but he had only this, for Grandmamma's family is no different."

Jack thought about that for a moment the closed his hand over hers,  
"You always were a clever girl Horry."  
She nodded,  
"Too clever, and I thank God for it, for it made me unmarriageable."  
"Not me then?"  
"No, not you. Don't think that I regret it either, for grandmamma has seen that I have had a good life with her, I've travelled and known good company and new ideas and friendship."  
She looked at him with shining eyes,  
"And I was here tonight, where I would always wanted to have been."  
She began to pull him towards the door,  
"Though I would rather be somewhere other than the gallery at this moment."  
Jack pulled her around and kissed her,  
"Pity it's so cold," he said eventually, "might be good sport to use these sofa's for something other than polite conversation. Something that might affront these painted stares."  
She laughed,  
"I doubt anything we could do would affront them," then she shivered "but it is cold. Too cold."  
He nodded and pulled the coat tighter around her, his smile glinted gold in the candlelight,  
"I, on the other hand, find myself lit by an inner warmth," he quirked an eyebrow at her, "How quickly do you think we can get back?"

***

The rest of the night passed in a haze of passion and laughter and then finally sleep; but before first light a scratching on the door waked them. A hesitant voice followed the scratch,  
"Miss Horry, I've brought chocolate and mince pies, as you asked."  
Horry stirred and yawned,  
"Come in Mrs Jane, " she said softly, pulling the sheet up to her chest.  
Jack swore softly in half awake protest and buried his head under the covering.

The cook came in on near silent feet. Seeing the mound under the bedclothes, she exchanged a smile of very female complicity with her mistress and set the tray down with a soft chuckle. She took one cup and crossed to his side of the bed, setting it down on the chest, she tapped a finger to the region of his head,  
"Be careful, for it is hot and it wouldn't do to spill it"

Jack drew one corner of the sheet down and looked at her with a wary eye, but the look on her face was reassurance enough to let him push it down to his chin and smile his most charming smile at her,  
"Thank you," was all he risked saying.  
"Well don't let it get cold," she scolded gently and, casting one quick look at his sheet draped outline, returned to Horry's side.  
"I'll take your grandmother hers in a while. She's had the best night she has seen in a long time I think and I'll let her sleep a while yet. So you have time to enjoy these and dress at your leisure, would you have me help you with your hair?"  
Horry took the sweetmeat she was being offered and bit into the soft pastry with relish,  
"As you did when I was a girl? No, I'll manage, I must be back here by the time Clarrissa come s to dress me for morning service."  
"Very well, ma'am. Ring if you want more chocolate or if you need help with anything," at Horry's laugh she ventured another smile of female understanding, "though seems you'll not be needing much of that this morning."

She came around to Jack's side again, where he was sipping chocolate with great care and concentration so as not to see the smiles of the two women. She waited patiently by the bedside until he could avoid it no longer and he looked up at her under his lashes with a sudden trepidation and something almost like shyness; seeing it her smile became maternal and she wagged a finger at him,  
"There will be breakfast set out in Mr Fletcher's pantry before you leave. Do not think of going without saying goodbye Mr Jonathon, for I'd never forgive you that and I've done nothing that you should treat me so."

Jack set down his cup and caught her reddened hand in his,  
"Nor have you. Never a truer friend did a lad have than you Mrs Jane, what do you think I am that I would leave without a word to you?"  
She smiled softly at him,  
"A scamp and a scallywag, Mr Jonathon, just as you always were. A rogue too maybe, though perhaps not as shameless as you would like to think yourself."  
He blinked at her in silence for a moment before dropping a light kiss on the roughened fingers,  
"You were always a woman of discernment Mrs Jane, let us pray that you are right again. Though I think you would find that view to be in the minority."  
She gave a snort of scorn,  
"Folks are often quick to judge Mr Jonathon, and those with least knowledge and smallest cause to do so judge the quickest and the hardest."

Catching the look that flashed across her face Jack wondered what experience it was that she spoke from, maybe that title of Mrs was not so honest after all. Not that he cared, though he could hope that Elizabeth would not need to learn the same bitter lesson. By Horry's grace she would be spared it and he would have one less sin to account for. He kissed the cook's fingers again and then let her hand fall,  
"A woman of the world you are." He bit into the pie she had set beside his cup, "If your cooking wasn't so wonderful I'd say you've wasted your life stayin' on land, but tasting these pies, no man could say that was a waste."  
She nodded and folder her hands on her apron, the smile lingering in her eyes though her mouth was prim.  
"As I said a scamp and a scallywag."  
He grinned at her as he licked the crumbs of pastry from his moustache with obvious pleasure,  
"Aye that I am."

She looked him up and down then tossed Horry another conspiratorial smile,  
"I'll see you at breakfast."  
Then she left them, shutting the door carefully behind her.

***


	5. Chapter 5

**Christmas Visit**

The sky was as cold as his bed and the rain a lucky chance as he stared back towards the fading shore. Above him the black sails of the Pearl swelled with the wind, increasing the distance between himself and what he was quitting with an almost indecent haste, as if she feared that he would change his mind and leave her if given a sliver of a chance.

The crew were glad of their speed, for with Cornwall left behind the waters were not so safe for such as they; and there might those who would find time to give pursuit even on Christmas day. As the mist claimed the feeble lights of shore they were glad of the gusting wind at their stern.

Jack watched the land disappear and decided it was best that he didn't examine what he felt. The man he was he must leave behind, as he had done before, and Captain Jack Sparrow must again assume control, for he could survive the days that no doubt awaited them. Survive he must until his future course was clear.

Elizabeth was gone, taken ashore to a small cottage prepared by his grandmother long ago when she had thought there might be need of it. A day or two of rest and she would make the final leg of her journey to the town of Plymouth, from there she would emerge from the chrysalis of Miss Swann as the butterfly of Mrs Turner, a grieving woman whose husband had been claimed so unfairly by the sea. She would not be remarkable here, there were too many of the same, and Horry would see that story stand.

Not that Elizabeth had been happy about the arrangement.

"Who is this lady of your acquaintance Jack and why would she agree to help me?" She had caught at his arm, frowning and with her eyes narrowed with suspicion,  
"What is she to you that she will do this for a stranger? Who is she that she can?"  
He had swallowed his irritation, knowing that she was worried and afraid for her child, and grieving still for a father lost and a husband surrendered. He had fluttered a dismissing hand in her direction  
"That is of no consequence El'sabeth, it is enough that she will do it." He had looked back towards the cliffs that hid the only place, aside the Pearl, that he could still call home, "She has a good heart, always had, and that's enough."  
"Not a pirate then?" there had been bitterness in Elizabeth's tone.  
He had smiled at her carelessly,  
"Don't know luv, never had the chance to find out."  
He caught her look and softened his tone, guilty at the sight of her white face and anxious eyes. 'How hard must this be for her', he thought,' the governor's daughter to be so cap in hand obliged to a stranger, and one whose pedigree she must, of necessity, have so many doubts. Why would she believe that any woman known to him could lay claim to the character of lady?'

She was in for something of a shock 'twas true, but he would be long gone by then and could only imagine her confusion when faced with Horry, who was so obviously of her father's station. He had charged Horry most carefully with denying her curiosity of course, and with staying mum on the exact nature of their acquaintance, and she would hold to that, but he doubted Mrs Turner would give up her pursuit of an explanation easily. Imagining her efforts in that direction would provide him with some amusement in the months ahead.

Still he could be easy now, Elizabeth was safe under the veil of respectability again; the Caribbean was a long way from here, and Singapore even further, so provided she was careful there was no reason her part in Beckett's debacle should be discovered. Though why it should matter to him he still wasn't sure. But all debts to that quarter were now paid, and neither the whelp nor his distressing damsel were any of his responsibility anymore. As for the future? Well Horry had undertaken to make discrete enquires as to Elizabeth's remaining family and in time she might be able to resume her place in their no doubt well fed bosom, then again maybe not. There was nought he could do to alter that however, and if she needed to remain an anonymous Mrs Turner than so be it; she had chosen to be the wife of a blacksmith after all, and she must have known the consequences of that even when her father lived.

Not that she and her offspring would starve exactly what ever the outcome; the gold that Sao Feng had bequeathed to her with the captaincy of his ship would keep her in comfort, if not luxury, for many a year. Certainly until Will returned. Jack was not sure of the plunder prospects of the captain of the Dutchman but he doubted that the lad would leave his wife and child un-provided for, even if he were unable to break the chains of his destiny.

As for himself? Well the future was no more certain than ever. He looked back at the fading shore and thought again of an old woman with a good heart and a tricky mind and smiled. Perhaps there was more hope, and opportunity, than he had thought when he arrived in these waters.

***

"Jonathon, I need to speak plainly with you."  
The old lady had been brighter this morning, though the shadow of approaching death could still be seen at the back of her eyes. He was sitting on the edge of her bed close enough to see the spark of darkness despite the candle flare. Outside the winters day was just beginning and there was an hour or more to go before the church bell would ring out the first call to the faithful of the day, but the fire was burning high and the room was a world away from the cold season beyond the window.

"When did you ever do ought else ma'am?"  
She smiled a tired and pale smile,  
"Maybe not plain enough for all that. There are things that should have been said years ago."  
Jack had shifted uneasily for that did not sound comfortable. Her smile grew wider on seeing him wriggle, and she patted his hand,  
"Be easy, I'll not rail at you for what you were or are, there is no profit in that and I have too little time left to waste it on things that can't be changed."  
He opened his mouth to reassure but she frowned,  
"Do not insult me by denying it. I've seen more than four score years on this earth and recognise the time is approaching for me to quit it. There is little I regret except perhaps that I could not have dealt you a better hand in life. If I had not been your grandfather's second wife things might have been different, if your father had been my eldest son that might have changed things too."  
She sighed sadly,  
"But those things could never have been altered, failing another plague your father could never inherit, and being what he was that always meant heartbreak. If he had had the prospect of the estate then maybe he would have tilled a straighter furrow, but without that he was always rootless and likely to go astray."  
Jack gave her a wide smile,  
"He's keeper of the code these days, a venerable sage, if only amongst the pirate fraternity. He's found safe harbour now what ever waters he may have sailed once."  
She gave a mirthless laugh,  
"He was always one for the forms and rules, though others might not have seen it. The men he killed, well it was all for cheating;" she shook her head, " though to kill a man when he had deloped..... That I could never understand or forgive."

There was a moment of silence,  
"He caused you much grief, did he not?" Jack said eventually.  
"No more than he caused your grandfather, and perhaps no more than he caused you. He loved your mother I think, too much to share her with anyone else."  
Jack shrugged,  
"I was not what he wanted me to be. And when I turned away from him....... Well as you say he was always one for the forms and rules and traditions."  
"But no doubt he is proud of you now?"  
Jack looked away towards the fire,  
"I don't know, would it be a good thing if he were?" He shrugged again. "We have found some sort of accord in recent events, but I don't care as much as perhaps I ought. Though I think his world will outlive him by a little, and I confess that I find myself not unhappy with that reflection."  
The withered fingers closed tight around his own, and she smiled again,  
"You were a good hearted child Jonathon, I doubt the man is so much different. But what of you? That is what I want answered, what of you? Where do you go from here?"  
He looked back towards her, speaking softly,  
"The truth? I don't know. My last clear purpose is fulfilled, I have delivered Williams's wife to safety and I have no more responsibility for Elizabeth or what she does. I hope she makes a home for herself and her child and finds a way to live with her losses. For myself I ask only the sea and the freedom to sail it,"  
He smiled at her again.  
"I have the Pearl back again and some ......possibilities. But nothing is certain."

She looked at him seriously,  
"And if I were to give you others, more possibilities, would you think it gift or curse?"  
Jack's smiled widened,  
"That would depend on the nature of the possibilities."  
The old woman nodded as if she expected no other answer. For a moment she seemed to think, then she pulled him slightly closer to her,  
"I have some property of my own, the remnants of my marriage settlement and willed to me by your grandfather on his death. It has grown in value significantly over the last few years and is a respectable fotune these days. More than one of your cousins covets it as you may imagine."  
Jack laughed and she nodded her agreement at the implied comment,  
" It had been my intention to leave it to Honoria alone," she continued," but I think it might prove more curse to her than boon if I leave it unencumbered, for they would want her wed and would never leave her alone until she chose one of them. She is strong it is true, but once I am gone she will be alone and that might change matters. Nor is she fitted for the life of a lonely but wealthy spinster, so I have discussed this with her and we have come to an alternative arrangement."  
She looked at him with such intensity that Jack was suddenly suspicious; he narrowed his eyes and looked down at her with his head cocked,  
"Hmmm, I see. This alternative it would be involving me I suppose, since you intend to tell me of it."  
"It might indeed," she smiled softly and a flash of youthful devilry danced in her eyes.  
Jack looked at her for a moment in silence, and then he smiled again and clasped her hand more tightly,  
"So enlighten me as to your plans to thwart my more deserving kin."

She settled herself more comfortably on her pillows,  
"I have the intention of making a codicil to my will, informing the world that I have never accepted my grandson Jonathon's reported death in the east and so am leaving this property jointly between Honoria and that Jonathon. The condition I place on her is that she seeks out her cousin or proof of his death. She will have the use of the interest on his share of the same property on the condition that she does so. This situation will be stipulated to continue until such time as she marries outside of the family, in which case that interest will pass into a fund for her children, or his if she has no issue, or until she has incontrovertible proof of his demise. At which point she will inherit the balance of the property involved. I will specifically charge her with seeking him first in the Indies and the Caribbean where the property involved is located."  
Jack threw back his head and laughed,  
"And do you think they would allow her to go alone on this venture? No of course you do not, you know them too well. So what else do you have in mind?"  
She looked down at his hand clasped in hers and stroked his fingers with her thumb,  
"I would not be at all surprised should she encounter pirates during her voyage, so perhaps she might be advised to take advice and escort from one who know of such things and might keep her safe. If her relatives were, then, to get left behind, by some unforeseen misfortune, then she would not be left unprotected. It may take her some time to complete the investigations, but I would not be surprised were she to find her cousin in some far flung corner of the shrinking globe, or to find someone more suited to her interest in such a place."

Jack looked at her with all hint of smile gone,  
"Why would you do such a thing?"  
He made to pull his hand away but she stopped him by a look,  
"Honoria deserves netter than the life they would give her. She is not suited to mindless polite company, but as I said they would never let her be while she was unmarried. As for the rest.."  
She drew a deep breath,  
"You may not consider yourself your father's son, it has been too long since I saw him to judge whether that is fair or not, though I have never doubted that he begot you. But you are most certainly your grandfather's grandson and he was a good man, though not always honest." She sent him a sideways smile, "None of the licquor in this house ever paid duty in his time you know, nor the lace nor tea nor anything else. He always knew your father sailed with the smugglers when the mood took him and he made no effort to stop it, any more than he stopped you in your adventures. It did not make him a bad man and if he had known of your actions with Beckett he would have cheered you, for he treated men fairly regardless of their station. He might not approve of you but he would like you, and that is enough for me. Horry of course does not even need that, what she thinks of you is enough for her."  
She slapped his hand with playful fingers,  
"I had best die soon now I think of it, for though you and Horry were always lucky in the past your luck may not hold, and she is not yet so aged that she might not need to find reason to leave quickly."  
Jack shot her a horrified look, so horrified that she laughed;  
"I'm sure you did your best to avoid such an outcome but that is no guranetee you know."

Jack saw her expression and frowned,  
"Why do I think that you would not be displeased by such an occurrence?"  
"Because I am too old to lie or pretend and I would not mind at all. Certainly not if Honoria had the opportunity to escape before the consequences became dire."  
She gave him a long and saucy look,  
"Misfortune? I'm not so sure, I think that you would give me most pretty great grandchildren and probably clever ones too." Her look became serious, "Would you run away Jonathon and leave Honoria unsupported were it to happen?"  
Jack didn't like to think of that matter but forced himself to, for she deserved an answer,  
"If I had the choice..... then probably not, but there are many things that could go wrong with that. Does it matter? Would my answer change anything?"  
"No," her look was shrewd and she flipped a careless hand, "for I do not believe you would when it came to it whatever you might think or say now. But for the moment it is of no matter. My will shall be changed tomorrow and none will know of it but those involved."

Jack heard the click of the latch and knew that Horry had returned. A bundle was tossed onto the bed beside his knee. He and the old lady looked up at her in enquiry,  
"Shirts Jon," she smiled, "and stockings, and a cravat or two. Who can say when you might have some use for them. I'll find you a coat before you leave if you wish, one warmer than the one you have on."  
He reached out an took her hand,  
"Thank you."  
She smiled sadly,  
"It will be light soon, there will just be time to have some breakfast before you leave, the others will not be awake for some hours but if you are to catch the tide........" her voice trailed away.  
The woman in the bed watched her with hidden sorrow and a renewed determination to bring this story of years to some form of resolution.  
"Find the coat Honoria. Leave Jonathon and I to say our goodbyes."  
She nodded mutely and left without saying more.

The woman in the bed waited until the door latch clattered closed. She was suddenly tired but she gripped his hand again and pulled him closer,  
"Make a proper goodbye to her Jonathon for she deserves that, if only for her efforts for this Mrs Turner."  
"Aye she does, and much more, I know it." His smile glinted at her, "and Mrs Turner has nothing to say in it."  
The old woman had stared up at him with something close to longing in her face and Jack felt a sudden sadness for the years lost and the things never said. For the things that never could be said now, not in this world, for there was not the time. She shook his hand with the last of her energy,  
"So what do you think Jonathon? If Honoria goes travelling at my behest how likely is she to meet a pirate?"

Jack looked down at her with a golden and conspiratorial smile,  
"I'd say it was very likely grandmamma, the world being the way it is, and possibilities being what they are. I'd have no hesitation in sayin' that it would be very likely indeed."

***

The end for the moment


End file.
